


One Word Spoken

by FlufferNutterButter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragon Genji Shimada, Human Zenyatta, M/M, weredragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlufferNutterButter/pseuds/FlufferNutterButter
Summary: In the daytime, Zenyatta met a helpful local to show him around Hanamura.In the nighttime, he met a dragon.





	1. Chapter 1

Hanamura was beautiful this time of year. 

Of course, Tekhartha Zenyatta assumed it was beautiful at all times of the year, but on this specific day, with the sun shining so brightly and the sky so clear, the city looked particularly picturesque. He couldn’t help but stand still and take a deep breath, absorbing his surroundings.

And then, his stomach decided to interrupt him with a loud, low grumble, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since before getting on the plane. He looked around. There were plenty of restaurants; in fact, there were so many that he couldn’t figure out where to go. The barest of concentrated frowns graced his features as he looked through his guidebook, trying to get an idea of the foods that Hanamura had to offer.

Bright green flew into his line of vision. “Hello, hello.”

Zenyatta looked up, caught off guard by the suddenness of the person talking to him. He smiled at a bright face and shining brown eyes topped with a shock of green hair. “Greetings.”

“You look lost, traveler,” the man said, leaning back and tucking his hands into his jacket pockets. “Need help from a native?”

“I do not wish to impose,” Zenyatta said. “I am simply looking for a place to eat.” 

The stranger hummed pensively before holding out his hand. “May I?” he said.

Zenyatta paused, unsure of what he was asking until the man tapped on the book. “Oh! Of course.” 

Book in hand, the Hanamura native thumbed through the pages, brow wrinkling and mouth frowning in his focus. After a few moments, he huffed, shutting the book definitively and handing it back to Zenyatta. “Those places are boring.” He grinned. “I know somewhere better.”

“And where might that be?”

The man pointed down a busy side street. “Two blocks, and then a left, and then another block. Or,” he leaned in just a touch, “I could take you.”

Zenyatta looked away, smiling but cautious. He didn’t know this man, and though he gave people the benefit of the doubt, an unnamed restaurant with an unnamed stranger wasn’t the best plan. 

“Perhaps another day. I was planning on trying,” he pointed to a restaurant on the block where he stood, “there.”

The man looked at the restaurant for only a moment before turning his full attention back on the monk. “Then may I accompany you?”

Zenyatta paused for a moment, thinking, and then nodded. “Yes,” he said, “On one condition.”

“Okay.”

“I am Tekhartha Zenyatta,” he said, bowing slightly. “What is your name?”

The stranger laughed and returned the bow in an exaggerated manner. He paused and looked up at Zenyatta, still bent. “I am Genji.”

“Well then, Genji,” Zenyatta said, smiling at his antics, “I welcome you to lunch with me.”

Genji straightened and smiled, an expression that seemed to light the air around him with joy. “Let us go, then.”

They strolled side-by-side to the restaurant, where Genji filled Zenyatta in on all that was good and bad to eat, how to order, and how well he knew the staff. Zenyatta felt thoroughly welcomed to the city.

“Is this how the natives treat all of the tourists here?”

“Only if they’re as cute as you.”

Zenyatta huffed a soft laugh.

 

The afternoon with Genji was eventful, with lots of talking and laughing as he showed the monk around the popular places in the lively city. They parted ways, Genji waving and promising to “See you later!”, so Zenyatta could relax after the day’s excitement. But after a brief dinner alone and an hour spent meditating and organizing in his hotel room, he found himself restless. He donned his dayclothes and shoes and set out into the glittering Hanamura night, intent on wandering his way through the dark streets.

For the first few blocks, the lights from bars and nightclubs dimmed the sky above, but once Zenyatta started to get away from the hustle and bustle, into the less-lit streets of the older part of the city, the sky became clear. The stars and moon grew brighter and more beautiful the further out of the center he went. 

He alternated between looking at the beautiful, clear sky and the way that the moon reflected off of the stones around him, even closing his eyes briefly to take in the sound of the nocturnal creatures and let himself feel the cool night breeze. 

When he opened them, he saw something swiftly soar across the sky.

Zenyatta felt breathless for a moment, frozen in place as he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. The shape began to escape his line of sight, and so, without thinking, he ran through the streets to follow it.

Whatever it was, it began to drift downward in an arch, heading for the walls of the Shimada Castle, one of the historic attractions that Zenyatta had read about. He sprinted, knowing that once this thing was behind that stone barrier, he wouldn’t be able to follow it anymore. He came to a halt, panting, at the base of the wall just as the shape began to near it. 

Zenyatta stared up, agape, as the shape neared the top of the wall. It shifted, ever so slightly, and fixed Zenyatta with a gleam before disappearing behind the stone.

The monk stood there for several minutes, breathing hard now out of the shock of what he had just seen.

Impossible though it may seem, he had just made eye contact with a dragon.

 

Exhaustion overtook him once he made it back to the hotel, and though he tried to stay awake to thumb through the pages of the guidebook, searching for anything about Shimada Castle and dragons, sleep soon overcame him.

When he dreamt, it was of a great dragon that led him through a maze. Each turn he took, the tail of the beast seemed to be just disappearing around the next corner, and he had to run to keep up. Eventually, he realized that the maze’s boundaries were stone walls, like the ones that surrounded the castle, and as soon as he thought that, the maze ended with him looking over all of Hanamura. However, the dragon was nowhere to be found. He turned, confused, to where the maze had let him out, and was met only with one towering wall, reaching much higher than he thought, and the sight of the dragon flying up and over it. Dream Zenyatta, however, remained determined in the face of such an obstacle and began to climb the walls, even though that should have been impossible. With each inch he gained, it seemed the wall grew a foot, but his curiosity spurred him onward, ever faster.

Suddenly, the wall ended, and Zenyatta was left scrambling for a hold on its top. Over the wall, he saw the dragon in its glory, curled up and sleeping. At the sound of the commotion Zenyatta made, it merely opened a single eye and gazed at the monk.

That was when he woke.

 

Zenyatta spent most of the next day sightseeing. He didn’t see Genji, but browsed in silence, both absorbing the beauty of the city and contemplating the dream that he had had the night previous. The whole thing had to have been a dream, hadn’t it? He must have just seen a cloud and let his imagination run wild. And yet, he couldn’t shake the memory of the way that the gaze of the dragon had struck him.

After a quick dinner, his drifting took him past the Shimada Castle, and before he knew it, he was walking the length of its walls, eyes trained on the quickly darkening sky in the vain hope that whatever he had seen would make a reappearance. He found about the same place he had stopped before and began pacing that block, using the repetitive scenery to help clear his mind. 

Just before the sun sank completely, he stopped to look, once again, at the top of the castle, seemingly much closer than in his dream. As he looked, an old woman approached him.

“Beautiful, yes?”

Zenyatta smiled at her. “The castle? Yes. It is quite beautiful.”

The woman’s smile was somber. She shook her head. “So sad. So empty, now.”

“What do you mean?” 

She turned and began to walk away. “The dragons live there now.”

Zenyatta wished to stop her and ask her what she meant, but the sun had set and it was getting dark. Instead, he pondered what she had said. The dragons were mentioned in the guidebook to be a myth, a bit of local color, but both Zenyatta’s eyes and this woman’s words were telling the monk that this was not the truth. He kept his eyes to the sky, now emboldened in his task to see the dragon again.

When the stars began to twinkle brightly, Zenyatta saw it. The dragon danced across the sky, slowly heading towards the Shimada Castle. However, it broke its path from the night before, looping and heading towards a spot further down the wall. 

Zenyatta wasted no time. He followed the dragon.

Further to the back of the castle it led him, until the walkway gave way to a handrail and the ground pitched forward. It was here that the dragon twisted again and dove behind the wall, but Zenyatta watched as it went, catching the brief look cast to him. 

From here on, he had to find his own way.

There were rocks and wood supports jutting out from the wall, and Zenyatta stood on the railing to reach them. He realized that falling from this height would be dangerous; if he didn’t die, he’d be incredibly, mortally wounded, and yet he set his eyes to the top of the wall and began to climb.

He did not falter once.

When he reached the top of the wall, which turned out to be a walkway, he saw that the dragon was slung over the roofs of varying levels around the castle, lounging like a cat. His view was a bit cut off, so Zenyatta climbed to the roof himself, finally standing before the great dragon. He realized that it had been watching him the whole time, eyes half-lidded.

“Well,” it spoke in a deep voice, “Aren’t you interesting?”

Zenyatta stared, shocked, but composed himself quickly. “I am standing here, speaking to a real dragon. I am sure I am not the most interesting one.”

The dragon laughed at that, a rumbling noise that Zenyatta felt in his chest. “And I assure you, monk. A human who has seen a dragon and climbed up a wall, risking his life, to see it again? To the dragon, you are the most interesting thing.”

The monk smiled at that. “The dragon may believe as it wishes.” He tilted his head, contemplative. “Does the dragon have a name?”

There was a rustling as the creature shifted, coiling around itself and turning to look Zenyatta head-on. Under the light of the moon, Zenyatta saw the green in its scales.

“Names have power, you know.” Its tone was warning.

The Shambali hummed. “My name is Tekhartha Zenyatta.”

“How do you give that so freely?” The dragon sounded surprised.

“How do you know I am telling the truth?” Zenyatta countered.

The dragon twisted, rolling its long body around until it was situated again, now looking up at him. “You seem like you would not lie.”

Zenyatta wished to have a comeback, but the words were caught with a yawn. The dragon laughed again. 

“Oh, little monk, it seems that chasing me has cost you your energy. You should return to your bed.”

“I do not want to.”

“Has the dragon really entertained you so?”

“Of course. And besides, I do not know your name.”

The dragon made a rumbling noise in its throat and shifted, raising its tail to Zenyatta. The monk climbed on, holding tight to surprisingly warm scales and mane, and was lowered to the ground.

“You can call me Sparrow.”

From the ground, Zenyatta turned to look up at the creature. “You are not a sparrow. You are a dragon.”

“I am many things.” He gestured with his tail. “Walk that way until you are at the main gate. There is a door next to it that leads to the streets of the city. Should you decide to return, that door will be an easier way in than scaling the walls.”

Zenyatta yawned again. “How do I know this is not another dream?” he murmured. 

“Should you decide to return,” Sparrow said, “you will know.”

 

Zenyatta woke the next morning and dressed immediately, racing to the gates of the castle. It was early enough that he could go through the side door undetected, and when he opened it, there was something waiting for him on the other side. He picked it up and shut the door, heading back into the city as he turned it over in his hands, now contemplating its meaning.

“Hey, hey! Zenyatta, hey!” a voice called. He turned, the smiling face of Genji greeting him.

“Genji, it is good to see you again.”

Genji’s smile grew wider and his cheeks tinged the slightest pink. “Flatterer!”

“It is true.”

Genji looked away for a moment, smirking in a way that did not reach his eyes. Then, he dropped his gaze to Zenyatta’s hands. “Oh hey,” he said, “What do you have there?”

“A feather,” Zenyatta explained, “I... found it, but I admit, I don’t know what kind of feather it is.”

Genji stared at it for only a moment. “Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “I think it’s a sparrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

Days passed quickly. Some days, he’d be led along by Genji all day, parting just before dinner. Others, they’d meet for just a moment before going their separate ways. However, they’d always make time for each other.

But the nights. Zenyatta would walk from his hotel to the castle and let himself in with the side door, dutifully left unlocked, and converse with a great dragon until the early hours of the morning. They spoke honestly, sometimes about great questions, sometimes about nothing. He wasn’t getting much sleep anymore, but he wouldn’t give up these meetings for anything.

On the third day of his visit, Genji had waited for him outside of the hotel with a hot cup of tea. “You look tired,” he’d explained, and Zenyatta had taken it gratefully.

Genji always seemed to know just what Zenyatta needed.

 

“Are you ready?”

Genji had his elbow resting on Zenyatta’s shoulder, exaggerating a relaxed pose to demonstrate the utmost confidence and comfort. Zenyatta laughed, stepping away and causing Genji to lose his balance, and laughed more when the other pouted at him.

“Come on, be nicer to me. I’m treating you today, after all.”

“Of course.” Zenyatta covered his mouth to suppress the last of the giggles. “I apologize for being rude.” He solemnly took a deep bow. Genji schooled his features into a look of superior nonchalance and bowed even deeper in return. The two managed only a second of eye contact before bursting into more fits of laughter.

“Do you intend to keep me waiting?” Zenyatta prodded. “It’s nearly dinnertime, and you have been begging me to go to this restaurant with you for a week.”

Genji looked to the sky, which was just beginning to color late afternoon. “Yes, yes! Come on!” He smiled, grabbing Zenyatta’s hand and lacing their fingers together as he pulled him along. 

The monk couldn’t help the warm smile that spread across his face from seeing Genji so happy. He tightened his fingers around the other’s hand.

 

The restaurant was not what Zenyatta had been expecting. It was small, quaint, with maybe ten tables total. They were welcomed inside by, of all people, the old woman from before.

She gave a knowing smile to Zenyatta before conversing with Genji in Japanese. They were led to a table in the back and presented with the modest menu. Zenyatta gave each item careful consideration, but Genji immediately handed his menu back, ordering something called the “Green Dragon”.

No longer exceptionally hungry, Zenyatta quickly ordered a small dish from the menu, and the waitress left. He fiddled with the edge of his napkin for a moment before asking;

“Do you know about them? The dragons, the ones in the castle.”

Genji froze, staring at the monk for a long time. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. 

“It’s an old urban legend, yeah? Hanamura’s famous for Shimada Castle, and there’s some old dragon lore.”

“O-of course,” Zenyatta covered, “I simply read about it in the guidebook.”

“Do you want to know more?”

The monk stared for a moment, nodding quickly.

“The guidebook’s got a pretty watered-down version. I can tell you the real stuff.”

“Please.”

Genji smiled at his captive audience. “The story goes, the dragons were once just human. Brothers-”

“Dragons? There were more than one?”

Genji leaned back in his chair, a strangely smug grin on his face. “Yes. That’s the legend, right? Why, did you think there was just one?”

Zenyatta realized his mistake. Of course, the guidebook had mentioned two dragons, but Sparrow was the only one he’d seen.

“My apologies. Please, continue.” 

Genji seemed happy to. “The brothers were cursed to take the form of dragons, a curse fueled by rage. For this reason, they cut themselves off from the outside world, afraid of transforming in public, and confined themselves to Shimada Castle. Day in and day out, they grew restless, quickly turning to take their frustration out on each other. Little did they know, that each time they transformed out of anger, the curse grew stronger, trapping them more easily. Soon, the dragon form called to them nearly all of the time, and they found it easier to spend time as a dragon than not. And so they stayed, in their monstrous forms.”

Genji stopped, a small smile on his face as he watched Zenyatta processing this information. Finally, the monk spoke.

“Is that it?”

Genji shrugged “Yeah.” But his smile gave away another answer.

“But can’t the curse be broken?”

Genji leaned forward. “They say it can. But it’s complicated.”

“How complicated?” Zenyatta pressed.

“You see, the dragons can be released from the curse when someone who loves them says their name. But the brothers were afraid. They feared their own monstrous natures, and thought that no one could ever love them. So they never gave their real names to anyone.”

“That’s… that’s so sad.”

“It is what it is.” Genji shrugged. “Hey, food’s here!”

 

The street was more crowded as they left the restaurant, and the sky was inching closer to night. In the bustle of bodies moving to and fro, Genji’s hand found Zenyatta’s. They stopped.

“Did you… have a nice time?”

Zenyatta looked at Genji, surprised to see his face tinted pink. 

“Of course!” He wanted to say more, but someone bumped into him, and Genji caught Zen before either of them could fall. Zenyatta looked at Genji again, trying to find the words he needed. He was surprised at how close they suddenly were.

They were but inches apart now, close enough that Zenyatta could see the flecks of gold in Genji’s eyes. But Genji wasn’t looking at Zenyatta’s; his eyes were nearly closed as he leaned in a bit further. Stopping, waiting for Zenyatta to make the final move. Zenyatta’s lips parted.

“Oh.”

Genji’s eyes opened at that, wide. “Oh,” he said, backing up. “Oh. Uh, shit.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Genji-”

“Shit, I uh,” he started backing away more, “I should go.”

“Genji, wait.” Zenyatta’s heart plummeted in his chest.

But he was already headed off. “See ya,” he said, without looking back. Zenyatta began pushing through the crowd, pursuing Genji’s quickly retreating form. However, when he finally made it outside into the oncoming night, Genji had disappeared. Zenyatta stood there until the last shades of evening faded from the sky, and it was dark.

In the distance, a dragon roared.

 

Maybe it was his own negative energy that made the castle seem so somber. Zenyatta pushed through the door and crossed the grounds with heavy, trudging steps. 

In the courtyard, the dragon squirmed and fidgeted, flitting this way and that and occasionally thumping his tail against the ground. The softer earth caved, while the stones began to crack. Smoke came pushing out of the snout, accompanied by a barely audible keen.

“What?” Sparrow snapped, whipping his head around to snarl at Zenyatta. However, the fire in his eyes quickly died, revealing a deep sort of tiredness. “I’m sorry. I am… agitated.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Zenyatta asked, raising his hand to stroke the dragon’s face. He felt a rush of air as Sparrow moved to encircle him, coming to rest his great head in front of the human.

“Tell me, little monk,” he said, “Don’t you wonder about how I have come to be this way?”

“I wonder a great many things about you. That is but one of them. But I will not ask where I am not welcome.”

“You are welcome anywhere. Everywhere.” He bared his teeth in what was likely a smile. “You need only ask.”

“Would you like to tell me, then?”

The dragon moved, and Genji felt a part of his body come to rest behind him. He reached down to stroke the scales with his hand, and at the beast’s nod, sat upon him.

“It is a curse,” Sparrow began. “A curse keeps me here, like this. A curse that is bound to my heart and soul. Should I succumb to any darkness within me, anger or hatred or jealousy, the curse only binds me tighter to this form.”

“‘This form’?”

“Yes. In the sunlight, I am human, so long as I keep my temper in check. But every time I give into that negativity, I risk becoming this. And every time I do, it weakens my connection to my human self. One day, there will be none of my human self left. Just,” the dragon curled its lip, “ _ The monster _ .”

Zenyatta reached out, paused for a moment, and then reached out further, running his fingers along the side of the dragon’s head. “You think that because you look like this, you are a monster?”

“Of course I am.”

“No,” Zenyatta said firmly. “You are you. Whether a human or a dragon, cursed or not, you are yourself. This does not change you. True self is without form.”

“Easy words coming from someone who’s not a dragon,” Sparrow said, but Zenyatta felt something running over his hand and looked up to see tears spilling from the dragon’s eyes. He shifted, straightened, pulling out of Zenyatta’s reach. “And now, you must leave.”

He stood. “Why?”

“Because, Zenyatta, you have done all you can for me. I’m afraid I would be poor company tonight, wallowing in my misery as I am.”

“But I wish to help. Perhaps I could help you break the curse.”

“Trust me,” the dragon said with an air of finality, “You can’t.”

 

That night, Zenyatta dreamt that he stood in the courtyard. Before him was a small bird. A sparrow. 

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I am Sparrow,” the sparrow replied in the dragon’s voice.

“No.” Zenyatta shook his head. “This is not you. Who is the real you?”

“Close your eyes.” 

Zenyatta did as he was told and felt something wind its way around his body. He was held in the dragon’s embrace, warm body cradling him. They remained like that for a long time, until the dragon spoke.

“You’ll never know.”

Zenyatta woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was the last one I wrote, so expect the final part in the next day or so.
> 
> I've got tumblr, if you're into that sort of thing. allginandplatonic.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

He sought out Genji the next day, feeling lonely and empty after the previous night. All he wanted was to see the other’s bright, smiling face and bask in his energy.

He could not find him.

At night, when he went to the door to get into the castle, he found it locked.

When he went around the side to where he had climbed up on that first night, he found the railing broken.

 

The following day held the same results.

 

Zenyatta looked at his phone as he climbed the stairs. The Hanamura sun was hot and bright, and he figured now was a good time to stop in somewhere cool and get some lunch. He would undoubtedly be dining alone for the third day in a row, as his wanderings about the city had shown no sign of Genji. He now realized how he had grown used to seeing the other man just about everywhere he went. Hanamura was full of people, but Zenyatta felt surprisingly alone.

As he came to the top of the landing, he was halted by a group of young men. They sneered at him.

“Hot today, yes?” one of them said. Zenyatta offered a placating smile.

“It is.” He took a step to go around the group, but another one cut him off.

“Need money to buy drinks, right?”

Zenyatta looked at the group. It was only three men, but he was boxed in against the top of the staircase. If he were to run down it-

A hand grabbed the strap of his bag and pulled him forward. “Give us your bag.”

Zenyatta also grabbed his strap, holding the man’s gaze. “I do not wish to fight you over this.” He pulled, but the other man had him beat in strength. He braced his feet on the stone and pulled back-

“Hey!” a familiar voice shouted. Zenyatta and the man looked to see a person, an angry vision with green hair, sprinting over. “Hey!”

Zenyatta was relieved, happy, to see Genji again. And then, the man released his grip on the bag, and the monk’s own force pulled him back and over the edge.

“Zenyatta!”

As he fell, he saw a flash of bright green fly past.

And then, when his head hit the stone, he saw nothing.

 

Was it a dream that the dragon was before him?

 

He came to in a strange bed in a strange room. A nurse came in to ask him questions and tell him where he was. A cop came in to ask him about what had happened. To both, he could say very little, both from the language barrier and the fact that his own mind was so preoccupied with the events as he tried to comprehend them. At one point, the nurse informed him that he was to stay in the hospital for another day at least. For this, he thanked her, but resumed doing what he’d been doing since he’d woken up; staring out of the window. The oranges and reds of afternoon sank into the purples of evening, and soon, the sky outside was dark. 

He should stay in bed. He was recovering.

He turned his gaze away from the sky and tried to sleep.

 

When he woke up to see that it was still night, he made his decision. Peace was not coming for him, not tonight. Not until he could figure out what was in his heart.

He stood slowly, making sure he could support himself. Then, he went over to the window and opened it, relishing the refreshing night air. He looked down, trying to gauge the distance and determine whether he could climb down. It seemed reasonable, and so he braced his feet on the windowsill and held onto the window.

He froze, legs shaking. No, now that he was in this position, he realized that he couldn’t do this. He was too weak, too ambitious, but now he wondered if he had the strength to even get back inside.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to move.

“Do you really hate hospitals this much?”

His eyes shot open. Before him, floating, was Sparrow.

“Allow me to help you.” The dragon wrapped his tail around Zenyatta’s waist, and he let his legs relax. However, he dropped his hands from the window to grip onto the mane-like tendrils on the creature’s tail, refusing to let go. 

“I wish to speak with you.”

The dragon eyed him. “You need to stay in the hospital.”

“I wish to speak with you first.”

“What would the nurse say if she came back to find you missing?” Sparrow offered.

“What would she say if she came back to find me in the clutches of a dragon?” Zenyatta countered.

The dragon paused, considering. “Very well,” he sighed, and curled his tail upwards to position Zenyatta right at the base of his head. The monk switched from the tail to the neck, gripping the mane, and buried his face there. He took a deep breath, his heart already feeling more balanced.

“Are you ready?” the dragon growled, and Zenyatta nodded into his neck. Then, they were off, soaring through the air. He gasped, looking at the lights of the city beneath them and the way the scenery drifted by from this angle. He could see Shimada Castle in the distance, regal even from there, and as they neared it, the dragon slowed, gently floating down and depositing Zenyatta on the balcony of the main hall.

“You have my attention.”

Despite this, the dragon was looking anywhere but at Zenyatta. “Do I?” he said.

For just a brief moment, their eyes met. “Say your piece.”

He steadied himself with a deep breath. “You locked me out.”

Those golden eyes were no longer looking anywhere near him. The dragon paced. “This is my property. I can do as I choose.”

“That is your right, but you locked me out with no explanation.”

The night sky was apparently more interesting than their conversation, judging from Sparrow’s gaze. “I needed to think. Besides, I was under no obligation to give you one.”

Zenyatta took a step forward. “You were cruel,” he said, and there was a quiver of emotion at the end.

“I’ve never claimed otherwise.” He looked to the side.

He closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to cry. The dragon had put up a wall. This was worse than the silence. “I, I thought we were friends,” he eked out.

“Now,” Sparrow said quietly, “when did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to. I care about you.”

The sound of a splat, a great drop of water, against the floor precedes the dragon’s next line.

“Your mistake.”

That did it. Everything that had been building up within Zenyatta, the pain and confusion and heartache mixed with affection and hope, it all burst. 

“Why are you doing this?” he shouted, voice breaking.

Sparrow looked at the ground, silent, and so Zenyatta stepped forward so that he could scream into his face, demanding attention. 

_ “Why won’t you look at me?” _

His vision swam then, and he teetered on his feet, beginning to pitch backwards. With a whoosh, the dragon had the end of his tail holding the monk upright and curled his head behind him. Though he felt faint, he managed a wavering; “Please. Talk to me.”

“Twice, I have lost my control because of you, and I am afraid of what that may mean.”

Zenyatta regained his balance and stood upright, resting a hand on the dragon. His voice came out in a whisper.

“And yet, you will not tell me.”

The dragon moved so that he and Zenyatta were face-to-face, but his eyes were closed. The monk stroked him, and he leaned into the touch.

“The first time, I was angry at myself. I lost control out of pettiness and my own conceit. But the second time,” he paused when Zenyatta placed fingertips on his mouth. The monk leaned forward.

“When? When was the second time?”

“Today,” Sparrow breathed “I did something, something that I maybe shouldn’t have done. I was angry, and I lost control.”

Zenyatta resumed his caress. “Do you regret it? Do you wish you hadn’t done this thing?”

With that, the dragon opened his eyes. Gold gazed into him. “No. I would do it again-a thousand times. That’s why I’m afraid. I would risk myself, everything that I am, for you.”

Past the gold, Zenyatta could see it. Behind the light in the dragon’s eyes was a warm brown, welcoming, like on his first day in Hanamura. How had he never noticed it before?

The tears came then, rolling down his cheeks and wetting the bandages on his face, seeping into his wounds, but he couldn’t feel their pain. Instead, he had a smile on his face. The sobs that start to wrack his shoulders were undercut by joy.

He pressed his forehead to the bridge of the dragon’s nose and closed his eyes, tears still steadily streaming. The name broke its way out of his mouth, spoken like a prayer.

“Genji.”

There was a puff of smoke, and through his eyelids, Zenyatta could tell that the world had just lit up. As the body in his arms shifted, he held ever tighter, determined not to let him get away. Beneath his touch, scales became skin, and he felt the dig of fingers into his upper arms. A human face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and Zenyatta felt Genji cry against him. Between the sobs and gasps, the monk could hear his own name, said over and over. He responded with the other man’s name, repeated like a mantra.

The fingers clutching his arms began to loosen and slide upwards as Genji straightened. 

“Zenyatta.”

He raised his eyes to meet the monk’s.

“Zenyatta.” 

His fingers slid higher, up to cradle the face of the man who saved him, wet eyes meeting wet eyes in question. In answer.

“Zenyatta,” he whispered against his lips.

The kiss lasted but a moment before Genji pulled back, wiping away Zenyatta’s tears with his thumbs. The monk then leaned forward, stealing a quick kiss and backing away before the other could respond. They looked at each other for a long moment, still, but when Genji smiled at him, and Zenyatta smiled back, they met in the middle.

They kissed tenderly for a minute before Zenyatta suddenly stopped, leaning back and looking off to the side.

“Genji,” he said, “You’re naked.”

“I turned into a dragon every night. My clothes don’t tend to survive.” He leaned in, breath brushing against Zenyatta’s ear. “Why don’t you enjoy the view?”

“ _ Genji _ .”

“Okay, okay.” he stood, and Zenyatta closed his eyes. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

 

He wasn’t aware of exactly what happened after that. After the adrenaline wore off, he only cold manage bits and pieces. He remembered Genji’s voice, urgent but soft, telling him that he should go back to the hospital, and a warm embrace as he was carried. He went from balcony to car to lobby to room, but always, those arms encircled him. Once he was back in the hospital bed, he felt more aware, and caught the words “minor” and “rest” from the nurse. Though Genji had released him, he reached out, seeking that warmth. A hand came to hold his.

“Sleep, Zenyatta. You’re going to be okay.”

Drowsily, the monk smiled at him. Sleep was beginning to come for him in earnest.

“How…” he broke off with a yawn, and Genji leaned down to him, resting his head on the mattress beside him.

“How what?”

“How do I know that this isn’t all a dream?”

Genji laughed softly. “I’m here, Zenyatta. When you wake up, you’ll know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter written long before I finished Chapter 2.
> 
> I'm considering doing a McHanzo companion piece to this, but we'll see.
> 
> Also, I've got two more Genyatta fics in the works, so this won't be the last you see of me.


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